What Does That Even Mean?
by melodiouslynocturne
Summary: Zexion still can't wrap his brain around Thanksgiving.


_AN: Happy Thanksgiving folks! Sure, it was 15 days ago, but who cares? _

_I don't own this. Characters belong to Square Enix._

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><p>Thanksgiving. 'Tis the season to be thankful, right? To spend time with family, eat lots of food and be jovial, right?<p>

Wrong.

It might be cynical, but I've never taken a fancy to Thanksgiving. It seems to me that no one understands what the point to the holiday is. Everyone says they're thankful for this and for that, but are they really? Do they understand there are bigger things to be thankful for? Then again, what do I know of the stupid holiday? Mother and father always fought, uncle always gorged and ate half the food, and my grandparents were either drunk out of their minds or passed out on their mashed potato covered plate. No one was thankful for anything other than the one of two times a year the heating company didn't mind giving us heat and the fact there would always be more alcohol than usual. I can only say I haven't had the best of Thanksgivings.

But Demyx promised different for this year. he said he'd teach me the true meaning of thanksgiving and why it was a holiday celebrated every year for god knows how long. I didn't want to, but I'd said I'd go. So there I was, walking on that frozen October evening towards the blonde's flat. Every step reminded me of another reason to hate the holiday, another memory of the holiday passed.

As I said, I hadn't wanted to go. Really. I was just about to say no before the blonde pouted and said he didn't want to celebrate by himself. The dimwit guilted me into going. I knew he wouldn't actually have to celebrate alone; he'd invited his group of friends steadily over the week. This was simply his ploy to get me out of my house.

I gritted my teeth against the cold. Oh, he was going to get it, I thought as I finally reached his apartment building. I'd been here on one other occasion: to help him with an English assignment. It really boggles my mind how he's made it into university; if it's not written in notes or key signatures, he can't figure it out. I searched for his name on the call sheet and pressed the connected button, doing a little jig to keep myself warm.

"Hello?" A voice called out over a loud beat.

"It's bloody cold out here, Demyx." I rolled my eyes, not that he could see me.

"Zexy! Come in up!" The blonde on the other end replied far too energetically. The door beside me buzzed and I pulled it open and stepped inside.

Warmth wrapped around me like a long forgotten friend. I smiled, slowly regaining feeling in my fingers and toes. I walked over to the elevator and pressed the button.

I didn't know when Demyx's obsession with me started. Perhaps it was the day in Chemistry I put out the fire his experiment had started, saving us all from toxic fumes. Perhaps it was the day in English when I'd offered to be his partner on a project I knew he would never be able to pass. Perhaps it was the day during break where I was playing my violin in the front lawn. With no rhyme nor reason, the blonde started showing up wherever I was. And I don't mean "Oh, fancy seeing you here! I didn't know you liked antique shops!' oh, no. I mean the 'I knew you were going to be here! It's exactly like I was stalking you!' type. I didn't mind the guy, but honestly, his stupidity did get a bit old.

I knocked loudly on his door and it swung open. "Zexy! Come on in and make yourself comfy. I'm just finishing up!" he said in his chipper voice, inviting me in. I nodded and crossed the threshold, talking my jacket off.

He'd cleaned. The first and last time I'd been here his large, open flat was covered in dishes, clothes, books, video games, you name it. It was like a tornado went through and he never bothered to tidy. Now, I was impressed. It was clean enough to be a show home. Everything was in order, everything was washed and dusted, everything was prepared for there to be company. Hell, it even smelled good. Vanilla, if I wasn't mistaken.

A heavy hand laid itself on my shoulder. "So the nerd appears. Hey Zex."

"Hey Axel." I said to the redhead above me. I'd told them both repeatedly that nicknames were for kids and it was wrong to shorten such a short name as Zexion, but, of course, nether found any reason to change. Demyx probably forgot every time I asked him to stop and I had a hunch Axel did it on purpose. He sat across from me, staring at me like he was turning me inside out and picking out everything he didn't like, which, let's be honest, was mostly everything. "Happy Thanksgiving."

I yawned, still not convinced of the happiness of this Thanksgiving holiday thing. "You too."

"Okay!" Demyx said, taking a big steaming pot of what looked like mashed potatoes and set them at the table. "Now Sora and Roxas have to show up and we can eat!"

Axel rolled his eyes. He always seemed to be doing that. "Demyx, you're missing something."

"No I'm not." The tall blonde stood perplexed. I could almost hear the gears in his head turning. He wasn't known for his intelligence, something that commonly bothered me. He'd made it into university barely being able to read and write. Maybe it was his charm? He could charm a brick wall into moving for him. Or maybe it was his musicality? On the last count, he could play six instruments: sitar, guitar, piano, flute, sax and the marimba. Technically seven, if you counted his voice. He could beatbox and sing. He could be a one man band if he wanted to.

"Turkey!" He cried, bringing me out of my thoughts. "Ax, could you carve the turkey? Last time I broke it." Axel chuckled and moved to the kitchen, preparing to take on the gigantic turkey awaiting him in the oven. The wall-mounted box connected to the door downstairs buzzed. "Sora and Roxas!" Demyx cried, racing out the door of his apartment.

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. Demyx and Sora had been an item for years. It was… Sickening to watch two people be so in love. Sickening and creepy. Very creepy. I sat in the living room uncomfortably, Axel whistling a tune to the buzz of the electric knife. Awkwardly, I stood and joined Axel, sitting at the bar across from him. "So what is the point of Thanksgiving, anyway?"

"Some fucked up holiday the pilgrims came up with. Apparently meant to be a time to be thankful for what you've got. Or something." The redhead responded, not even looking up.

So we have the pilgrims to blame for it. Don't get me wrong, I do know the story of Thanksgiving, but I never understood why it was even celebrated, let alone why they ate turkey.

In my musings, Demyx, Sora, and Roxas came back all talking and laughing loudly. The table was set, we took our seats, and dug into the mass amount of food in front of us. I took a couple pieces of turkey, a scoop or two of mashed potatoes, and a spoonful of corn. I ate in silence, listening to the four around me talk about nothing in particular, the topic changing every two minutes or so.

And then it hit me.

"Guys! We still haven't said what we're thankful for!" Demyx cried, dropping his spoon.

My ears perked up. This was something to listen to. "Why don't you start then?"

He smiled his wide toothy grin. "I'm thankful for food and music and for Sora." The afformentioned smiled and kissed his cheek, causing the blonde to blush.

"All I'm thankful for is a stiff one at the end of the night." Axel said, downing his drink.

Roxas winked at him. "Same, but not in the way you mean." Axel chuckled and rolled his eyes, shoveling potatoes into his mouth.

Sora gagged. "I don't want to know what you do at night." Roxas threw a bun at his twin brother, which was cleverly dodged. "I'm thankful for love, friendship, and togetherness. Like right now." He finished with a smile. "What about you, Zexion?"

I had to think for a moment. This whole Thanksgiving thing finally made sense to me. It wasn't just about the food or being with outhers. It was about being, well, thankful for what you have noe, because you never know if you'll have it tomorrow. Thankful for the future in hopes that things will get big for you. Thankful for what you have, what you could lose in an instant. "I- I've got to go." I stood, grabbed my jacket, and was out the door before any of them could process my statement.

The growing cold air stung my still warm body, but it didn't matter. I ran. I ran faster than ever, with true motivation. A single phrase repeated in my head, driving me blindly through the streets. The icy wind hitting my face kept the face fresh and that simple phrase clear in my mind. Thanksgiving isn't really about what you're thankful for; it's about what you're willing to fight for.

The house was dressed in glittering lights, the beams dancing across the fresh snow. I slowly caught my breath walking up to the front door. I knocked three times and huddled my body inot itself, containing heat. The simple phrase repeated like a waterfall, daring myself to try to forget what to say. I shook away the thought: there was no way I was screwing up this time. The door opened, revealing the one person I wanted to see more than anything. And you know what I said?

"I love you."


End file.
